


never been a perfect soul

by simplyclockwork



Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [33]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John Watson, Gen, POV Sherlock Holmes, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Angst, Violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: ...but I will not apologizeapologize - grandson
Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528859
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	never been a perfect soul

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by jean-the-ginger on tumblr:
> 
> _For the 200-prompts thing, I'd like to suggest this one: 101, "John, please. You're scaring me."_
> 
> This might inspire more one day, but for now, it is just an angst drabble.

Sherlock has always known that John has a temper. It would be a hard thing to miss, the way he shakes and trembles with barely repressed rage. John Watson is a walking, ticking time bomb, and Sherlock has been waiting for the inevitable explosion. When it comes, Sherlock is caught in the blast radius, just another casualty in the war raging within John’s tightly coiled fury. 

John erupts. He throws his hands into the air and pushes Sherlock against the wall with trembling fingers. His arm digs into Sherlock’s throat, pins him in place, rips the air from his lungs. 

John stares into his wide eyes, and Sherlock can’t look away.

“John, please,” he says, and his fingers pluck at John’s sleeves without much force. “You’re scaring me.” 

“I can’t believe you did that, Sherlock.” John’s voice is steel-sharp, and just as hard, and Sherlock’s hands fall back to his sides. 

“John, I can explain,” Sherlock tries for calm, aims for in control and completely fine. He misses by a mile, the words shaking beneath the weight of John’s anger.

“Oh? Can you?” John bites the retort out, spits it in Sherlock’s cringing face. “Can you _really?_ Well, go on, then. I can’t wait to hear this one.”

Sherlock swallows. John’s forearm presses into his throat, and he chokes around the words he must say. 

“I did it for your own good,” he says, and the vibration of his voice does little to convince either of them. “I had no other choice.” Sherlock doesn’t believe himself, and John clearly doesn’t either, because his head tilts up, and his eyes slide shut. 

“Sherlock,“ he begins, and there is a finality in the start of that sentence. It plunges Sherlock’s body into ice.

“Don’t, John. Please.” He is begging. Pleading. Choking on the weight against his throat and the wrath crashing over them, and Sherlock is begging. “Don’t leave, don’t go, don’t leave me.”


End file.
